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Go make sure your eel doesn't burn than look through the receptionist desk for any evidence of what happened before during and after the dreaming, where everyone went, and why there's a giant eel in the middle of the lobby , and keep your towel close

> Go make sure your eel doesn't burn than look through the receptionist desk for any evidence of what happened before during and after the dreaming, where everyone went, and why there's a giant eel in the middle of the lobby , and keep your towel close

These are weighty questions indeed. You're not entirely sure why you think you might find answers here in Jasmine's Gym, but hey! You've not questioned the voices so far, and they've kept you pretty much on the right path so far. Without them, for instance, you wouldn't have got any information out of the Gengar. Nor would you be wearing this beautiful dress or this giraffe shoe.

Keeping this in mind, you return to the front desk, stopping at your eel to uncoil it from the jar and curl it round the other way to cook the other side. That done, you have a good rummage around in the desk. You uncover the drawer where they keep the Mineral Badges, and many other drawers full of paperwork. It looks like there's actually rather more admin involved in running a Gym than you'd thought. Every challenger has to be logged, and then there's the staff to consider – their salaries, the health plan, negotiations with the unions...

Fascinating as all this is, it doesn't tell you what happened at any point around the time of the Dreaming. Nor does it explain where everyone went, although you suspect you already know – the Eldritch Pokémon got them, as they did everyone else.

Nor does it explain the eel. (Which, by the by, is not gigantic; while the European eel does not commonly exceed 80cm in length, specimens have been recorded at lengths of up to 1.5m. Thus, while certainly large, yours is not a giant in any meaningful sense of the word.) Thus, the desk does not appear to be of much help.

While you're considering this, you become aware that the eel is starting to burn; Vesta's jar is very hot, and has cooked it swiftly. You remove it from the glass and drop it hurriedly on the desk, atop a makeshift plate made from pages three through seventeen of last quarter's accounts ledger. It is hot, greasy and slightly burned on one side – but it smells absolutely delicious. You devour half of it eagerly, and wrap the other half up in the accounts for later.

Alright, I guess your right it was a long shot but I always though the Gym Leader was like the most important person in town and would be plugged in, but anyway let's head down to the docks see if there's anything there

Make your way to the docks, checking each house along the way for loot. After the docks, go check the Lighthouse. If Jasmine is still in existence, she is bound to be on the top floor along with whatever the Lighthouse Ampharos has become.

> Alright, I guess your right it was a long shot but I always though the Gym Leader was like the most important person in town and would be plugged in, but anyway let's head down to the docks see if there's anything there
> Make your way to the docks, checking each house along the way for loot. After the docks, go check the Lighthouse. If Jasmine is still in existence, she is bound to be on the top floor along with whatever the Lighthouse Ampharos has become.

There aren't any houses between you and the dock; there is, however, the Pokémon Centre and Mart, and the Olivine Café. Each of them, inexplicably, contains another eel – or, in the case of the Mart, another two.

Othodox found some Large European Eels! Othodox put the Large European Eels in the Fish & Seafood Pocket.

Huh. You didn't think that pocket would be getting so much use when it first appeared. Shows how much you know.

You also find a few bits and pieces in the buildings.

Othodox found one Boxed Wine! Othodox put the Boxed Wine in the Booze Pocket.

Othodox found some Super Potions! Othodox put the Super Potions in the Medicine Pocket.

Othodox found one Revive! Othodox put the Revive in the Medicine Pocket.

That done, you reach the docks – and stare.

You have by now worked out that several years have passed since the Dreaming started – time enough for Falkner to age significantly, and for the remains of most of the population to be entirely consumed by weathering and monsters. However, with the exception of the Cherrygrove Pokémon Mart, all the buildings look as if people have only just walked out of them – as if no time has passed at all.

The dock does not.

In fact, it's very clear that no one has been performing the regular maintenance that it requires for quite some time now. The part of it closest to shore has collapsed, and the rest is black and slimy with crawling weed; much of the wood is rotten, and several of the jetty supports have splintered within the iron rings that are meant to hold them together. The building at the far end, where the ticket desk used to be, is half-submerged in the ocean, tilted at a dangerous angle. Beyond it all, the distant, mist-shrouded Whirl Islands rear like the teeth of a cosmic gullet, ready to swallow down the dying dock.

Hm. Unless you can fly, there's no way to get over to the office. You could swim, I suppose, but you'd stand a high chance of being pounded to bits against the concrete foundation of the jetty supports; the current is strong here.

Shrugging, you turn your attention to the Glitter Lighthouse. It stands as tall and proud as ever, resplendent in the morning sun – and, much to your surprise, a lancing beam of light flashes briefly from the top, as if in answer to your gaze.

Someone is up there. And they know you're here.

You head over to the lighthouse entrance, and listen at the door; no noise comes from within. This means one of two things: there is nothing inside, or there is something that lies in wait for its prey very, very stealthily inside.

You fervently hope it's the former.

You push open the door just a crack, and peek inside – nothing out of the ordinary that you can see. The lobby is the same as ever; same rich, thick carpet, same wallpaper, same pot plants. (Pot plants are oddly popular in Johto. Not only that, but everyone has the same type – a kind of tall, thin one resembling a palm tree. This has never bothered you before, but now strikes you as somewhat odd.)

Cautiously, you open the door fully and step inside—

—only for a tonne of blood-red carapace to lunge wildly at you from your left.

You fling yourself to the right, crying out in surprise and hitting the floor hard; too late, you see the hole in the floor, surrounded by torn carpet and splintered floorboards, carefully concealed behind the door – the same door that the armoured beast now facing you is scuttling in front of, the better to cut off your escape.

It looks like a crab, but not any sort of crab you know; it stands as tall as a man atop a writhing, clicking tangle of articulated legs, and colossal pincers swing low on either side of its domed shell. If it has eyes, you don't see them – just two deep pits in its crimson armour.

You get to your feet, Vesta in one hand and the Hideously Dangerous Stabby Thing in the other, and back off warily, towards the wall. The monster makes no move to follow; it seems to be a little more cautious now that it's lost the element of surprise.

bad earth bug, mumbles Vesta, and too late you realise that Jasmine's Steelix isn't the only burrowing animal Olivine houses: it also has a sizeable population of Krabby.

First things first, asses the level of the threat. Is it a Krabby or a Kingler? Try to maneuver yourself over to the door, then flee and try to lose it. If that is not possible try to recall how they see the world around them. Do they primarily use their sight, smell, hearing, or something else? Then you could try going for the eyes if it seems possible to do without getting hurt.

Which is closer the stairs or the door if it's the door do as the one above said if it's the stairs run upstairs, sure it's great for tunneling but how good is it going up? If you can make it upstairs to just go the full lighthouse gauntlet there's things like jumping out the window to the lower landing to climb up higher that you could use to lose it

A Krabby or a Kingler, it doesn't matter. It's weak to grass-type moves, so...
Quickly attach the leaves of the potted plant to your Hideously Dangerous Stabby Thing to add the grass-type effect on it.

> First things first, asses the level of the threat. Is it a Krabby or a Kingler? Try to maneuver yourself over to the door, then flee and try to lose it. If that is not possible try to recall how they see the world around them. Do they primarily use their sight, smell, hearing, or something else? Then you could try going for the eyes if it seems possible to do without getting hurt.

You could tell whether or not it was a Krabby or Kingler if you checked your Pokédex – it's so far altered that you can't work out which it's meant to be – but you can't really do that, since you have your hands full and the Pokédex is in your Bag. Either way, you're assuming it's probably pretty capable of hearing you.

You do know (because you are, despite appearances, a reasonably competent Trainer) that both Krabby and Kingler have tough carapaces punctuated by enormous, fragile eyes, which they usually close in battle in order to prevent them being horribly damaged. This is probably why you can't see its eyes right now: it's closed its armoured eyelids to protect them from your Hideously Dangerous Stabby Thing. As a crab, it has an excellent sense of smell, although this works best underwater. It also has a highly efficient ability to sense vibrations that kind of approximates to human hearing; it's this that lets it know when prey is passing its little pit – and lets it know exactly where you're standing and how you're moving at any moment in time.

Despite the closed eyes, the crab knows where you are better than you know where it is. It's also standing in front of the door, so escape that way isn't possible.

So that's all pretty encouraging, isn't it?

> A Krabby or a Kingler, it doesn't matter. It's weak to grass-type moves, so...
Quickly attach the leaves of the potted plant to your Hideously Dangerous Stabby Thing to add the grass-type effect on it.
...it works like that, right?

You wish it did. You really, really wish it did.

> So here's this giant enemy crab...
Real-time weapon change
Flip over this crab on its back
And you attack its weak point for massive damage
???
$599 USD

You attempt to work out how to follow this command – how can you change your weapon when you don't have any others? How do you plan to flip a crab the size of a pickup truck on its back? How will you spend US dollars in Johto? – and then realise with some relief that it doesn't apply to you, since you don't live in feudal Japan.

Whew. That's a relief.

> Which is closer the stairs or the door if it's the door do as the one above said if it's the stairs run upstairs, sure it's great for tunneling but how good is it going up? If you can make it upstairs to just go the full lighthouse gauntlet there's things like jumping out the window to the lower landing to climb up higher that you could use to lose it

You know, some crabs live in trees – they can climb straight up the bark. Don't knock a crab's climbing abilities. In fact, don't underestimate crabs in general. They can do a hell of a lot more than most people think.

Hum. More sea creature knowledge. Where is all this stuff coming from?

The stairs are tight, though. Say what you like about crabs, they're not known for being able to turn tight corners in spaces smaller than their legspan. You could lose it there.

The beast clicks its mouthparts and lunges with a pincer; you step swiftly out of its path, only to be hit in the belly with the side of the other claw. Winded, you stagger back and almost fall; the thing can feint? Christ. These Eldritch Pokémon really are smart.

Emboldened by this success and your lack of retaliation, the crab edges forwards, clicking and popping like a demonic typewriter; feeling that you really need to do something to discourage it before it slices you in half, you jab at it with the Hideously Dangerous Stabby Thing – which skitters harmlessly across its carapace. There isn't even a scratch to show for your effort – though it does strike an attractive line of sparks.

The crab pauses and taps its face carefully where you hit it, perhaps to confirm that you really did attack it.

You take this opportunity to run.

Down the hall, towards the stairs, the muted clatter of pointed feet on the carpeted floor in your ears and the wind of heavy limbs swishing through air blowing against your back—

The elevator doors slide open with a ding.

You don't stop to consider how, why, or whether or not more evil awaits within: you fling yourself inside just as the crab makes its last leap forwards. One thrashing pincer makes it through the gap between the closing doors, snapping wildly; you press yourself into the far corner to avoid its scything sweep. Its bladed tip lightly brushes your arm, and a red line opens up where it passes.

Then the lift is rising, and the claw abruptly sinks towards the floor, caught inextricably between the doors; the crab lets out an almighty chattering squeal – and with a sound like an oak tree snapping in half, the ceiling, doors and gravity all combine to wrench the claw clean off its arm.

You have no chance to marvel, though: the claw, no longer rooted to the spot, is bouncing wildly around the lift, propelled by massive muscular spasms. Bluish ichor sprays everywhere; the back of the upper pincer smashes you across the face and knocks you back. Without thinking, you fall flat on the great claw, pinning it down; it bucks and kicks beneath you, snapping like a crocodile, soaking your dress in gore and gushing blood down your legs – and, little by little, it dies. Its spasms slow, its snapping weakens; gradually, the life ebbs from the thing, and that would be an end to it if your elbow wasn't slipping on the slick carapace, and sliding between the two weighty claws—

For a long moment, the lift is full of the sound of hideous screaming.

Then the claw relaxes and lies still beneath you, and you flop back against the far wall, clutching your arm and breathing raggedly. Vesta's jar rolls away from your limp, useless hand and bumps against the claw on the carpet.

Othodox is Pretty Seriously Wounded!

You are aware that you ought to do something. Are you bleeding? You're not sure. Does it hurt? Again, difficult to tell... the world is kinda dark around the edges. Fuzzy.

You sit up slightly, wincing in pain. You hurt all over: aches in every part of your crab-blood-soaked body, from face to hips to legs. It feels like you got run over by a lorry – which then reversed. Slowly. After most of its load fell out of the back onto your head.

However, you are alive, and that, after the beating the pincer administered in its death throes, is more than you feel you deserve.

moving! cries Vesta happily, from somewhere near your feet. alive!

“Yeah,” you reply. Your voice sounds like you borrowed it from someone with a punctured lung, which worries you for a moment until you realise that you can breathe fine, and therefore do not have a punctured lung. “Yeah, just about.”

You feel your face with your right hand – not your left. You don't want to try to move your left arm. Not yet. You don't want to confirm what you suspect.

You finger your nose, and wince as part of it that definitely should not move shifts perceptibly. Yep. That's broken.

The first touch of your fingers causes such an eruption of agony that you have to withdraw immediately. The memory of how they felt, brushing the puffy flesh of your forearm, lingers in your mind with the pain.

A little while later, you try again.

This time, you force yourself to hold your hand there, and to look.

There are two deep notches in your left arm, just above the elbow; they don't break the skin save for a few tiny pinprick holes, but they have crushed your muscles to the bone. Beneath them, the skin is stretched taut over swollen flesh; in places it has split, and leaks a strange whitish fluid – presumably some kind of venom. Your hand lies at the end of it all, bloated, pale and utterly motionless.

You try to wiggle your fingers.

Nothing.

Othodox is Crippled!

The noise that escapes your lips is not a noise that you knew humans could produce.

--

You wish the claw hadn't weakened. Losing the limb would have been kinder.

---

After a while, you struggle to your feet. You retrieve Vesta with your good hand, and stuff her into your Bag. You pick up your Hideously Dangerous Stabby Thing with the other, and look over the dead claw. The lift doors have opened, revealing darkness beyond; you do not know how long you have been unconscious, but the lift has definitely been here a while.

Do you still have any moo moo milk? If you do I suggest drinking it all and hoping it has the same effect as last time. Also stuff the claw in your backpack you never know when it might come in handy. Then move further up the light house. But try to be quiet and not attract any attention.

Take some more MooMooMilk but dont drink the whole thing unless its the only way to heal again. If it is, tie yourself down with whatever you can before you drink it so you dont run off and do stupid stuff on a Milk high. Once that wears off, take a minute to think about why you have so much random knowledge.

Drink Moo moo milk but first put your stuff your bag than hide it and vesta outside the elevator try to get the crab claw out too, than press the close door button and chug a bottle use the elevator as a detox room, and tell Vesta what's going on so she doesn't freak out and feed her a lot before just in case this takes a while, if that all works than keep exploring, And sorry for crippling you with my command

You spend fifteen minutes explaining the use prepositions and articles. Vesta does not get it. It may be that she's not smart enough to get it yet, or it may be that you're a little too preoccupied with your crippled arm to be much of a teacher.

It's a nice gesture, though. Knowledge is night!

Othodox's Devotion has improved!

Othodox is now a Keeper of the Flame!

> Take some more MooMooMilk but dont drink the whole thing unless its the only way to heal again. If it is, tie yourself down with whatever you can before you drink it so you dont run off and do stupid stuff on a Milk high. Once that wears off, take a minute to think about why you have so much random knowledge.
> Drink Moo moo milk but first put your stuff your bag than hide it and vesta outside the elevator try to get the crab claw out too, than press the close door button and chug a bottle use the elevator as a detox room, and tell Vesta what's going on so she doesn't freak out and feed her a lot before just in case this takes a while, if that all works than keep exploring, And sorry for crippling you with my command

The milk. Oh God, the milk!

A whoop and a little victory dance seem appropriate, but you really aren't up to anything more than a wheezy exhalation and a slow shuffle. This done, you move on to setting up your detox chamber, moving Vesta outside and putting a bit of wood in her jar.

You attempt to tie yourself down, but given that you have one working hand, nothing to tie yourself to and nothing to tie yourself with, it doesn't work. Your attempt to shift the two-hundred-kilo crab claw meets with similar success.

All right. Nothing you can do about that. You're just going to have to get on with it.

You sit down, back to the wall, and laboriously unscrew the lid of one of your remaining bottles of milk one-handed. That done, you consider what might be a safe dosage, and settle on half a bottle.

Othodox is Fairly Majorly Wounded!

With a loud crack, your nose slots back into place; bruises disappear like fading inkstains.

Othodox is Quite Badly Wounded!

Your arm deflates abruptly, down to the bone, and then begins to swell back to normal size.

Othodox is Badly Wounded!

Large quantities of white venom force their way out of the pores of your left hand.

Othodox is Wounded!

Something deep within your arm, something crunches ominously.

Othodox is Wounded!

Wait, shouldn't that have changed?

Othodox is Wounded!

Something's not right. Even through the pleasant buzz of the milk, you can see that.

Othodox is Wounded!

Your left hand looks normal – but, you realise as your panic begins to outweigh the effects of the milk, you still can't move it.

Another gulp of milk – nothing. Another – still no change. Another...

Yes! A twitch! The faintest of faint movements, but still!

You drain the bottle and toss it aside. Slack tendons tighten inside your hand with a feeling that would be horrifying if you weren't so high, and abruptly your fingers curl into a fist.

Othodox is A Little Wounded!

Oh yes. You feel so much better now. Really good, actually. It's the milk, no doubt – peps you up. You knew that already, though. Everyone knows that. Milk. Good stuff. Not even that venom from the crab seems to be able to cancel it out.

Man, that crab blood is such a pretty shade of blue.

You run your hands over the crab claw and stare at the blue patterns that form on your palms. Gorgeous. Hey, could you drink this? Maybe not. It looks like antifreeze. Actually, it doesn't, but it looks like what you imagine antifreeze looks like.

Not like milk. There's a substance you can trust. Opaque. White. Creamy. Peps you up, puts a zip in your step.

Mm-mm. Milk.

The idea of eating the crab claw now occurs to you, but thankfully your body realises at this moment the biological impossibility of the damage and healing you just underwent and deals with it by passing out into a deep and dreamless sleep.

You wake with your face on the claw, crab blood dripping off your chin, and the remnants of the milk high humming in your head.

Whoa.

That was pretty intense.

You climb stiffly to your feet and test out your hand. It's much weaker than the other – the muscle tone has significantly deteriorated – and stiffer with it, but it still works, which after the punishment it just received is more than you could have hope for.

For a long moment, you stand there, leaning against the wall and flexing your hand in front of your face. Then you sigh.

OK. Not thinking about that any more. Not thinking about it. You think of something, anything else to put the events of the last few hours from your mind – and hit upon your unusual knowledge of sea creatures. Where is it coming from? Who knows. Why do you have it? Likewise.

This is an excellent distraction, as it makes you too frustrated to worry about the state of your hand.

> Do you still have any moo moo milk? If you do I suggest drinking it all and hoping it has the same effect as last time. Also stuff the claw in your backpack you never know when it might come in handy. Then move further up the light house. But try to be quiet and not attract any attention.

There's no need to move further up. As you step out of the lift, it becomes abundantly clear that you're at the top: to your left and right, you can see the great curved windows of the lantern room. They're obscured by hanging shrouds of cloth and plastic, reducing the light level to that of a late November evening, and the other end of the room is entirely invisible – but you can see the ring of lenses in front of you.

Slowly, cautiously, with your mind full of the possibility of an Eldritch Ampharos, you make your way out towards the lenses.

There! A movement in the shadows, at the far end of the room. You step between the lenses, move carefully out into the centre of the ring. Something gleams in the dark, and you raise the Hideously Dangerous Stabby Thing warily.

“THAT'S ENOUGH!” says a voice – though patently not a human one; it grinds and shrieks like tortured metal. “DON'T COME ANY CLOSER.”

Don't go any closer like it said and talk to it ask who or what is is, and what happened to the town? Why is half preserved and the other dilapitated? Ask if it knows of those that dwell beneath the waves. Just be careful I don't want you to get crippled again or eletricuted by a highly intelligent Magnemite

> Inform the Unknown Beastie that you are armed, so you are, with a Hideously Dangerous Stabby Thing and furthermore, you object to being ordered around like some sort of craven servant. One more arrogant demand and you'll wallop it with the two-hundred-kilo crab claw.
> Remember that you were physically incapable of even shifting said crab claw, let alone engaging in any walloping with it.
> Make a comical Oh Crap face and begin slowly backing away.

[off-topic: I love this idea, but I love the execution even more. Seriously. I just hoovered up all ten pages like a sentient vacuum cleaner and I'm still not sated. SO WRITE MORE PLEASE THANK YOU :D]

> Be careful, as that is either a (most likely) insane jasmine, or an incredby smart eldritch Ampharos. one that learned to talk apparently.

You didn't really need to be told this. Amazingly enough, you were actually being careful when facing a potentially deadly and wholly unknown creature that lurks in darkness.

Your perspicacity never ceases to astound.

> Stay at a distance and talk to it. Also make a mental note to go back to the farm and steal some more moo moo milk.

You still have a couple of bottles of milk left – but there won't be any supplementing it now that the farm's burned down.

> Oh, someone or something is there with the ability to talk? First make sure that it's not the MooMoo Milk that is giving your ears a hearing hallucination.
If it's not the work of the milk, then go into chat mode. :3

You don't really have any means of testing whether or not you're hallucinating. To be honest, it probably doesn't matter if you are; most of the stuff that's happened over the last few days only really makes sense as a hallucination.

That said, CHAT MODE ENGAGED TARGET ACQUIRED

> Inform the Unknown Beastie that you are armed, so you are, with a Hideously Dangerous Stabby Thing and furthermore, you object to being ordered around like some sort of craven servant. One more arrogant demand and you'll wallop it with the two-hundred-kilo crab claw.
> Remember that you were physically incapable of even shifting said crab claw, let alone engaging in any walloping with it.
> Make a comical Oh Crap face and begin slowly backing away.

“I'm armed,” you say. “I have a deadly poisonous needle. And a gigantic crab claw.”

You sound pretty intimidating, if you do say so yourself – and that makes it all the more surprising when the unknown being laughs. It sounds like the Radio Tower collapsing.

“YOU'RE FUNNY,” says the voice. “I LIKE THAT.”

Well, that was unexpected.

> Don't go any closer like it said and talk to it ask who or what is is, and what happened to the town? Why is half preserved and the other dilapitated? Ask if it knows of those that dwell beneath the waves. Just be careful I don't want you to get crippled again or eletricuted by a highly intelligent Magnemite

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, that was totally meant to be a joke. Who are you?” you ask, swiftly changing the subject.

“NOBODY,” replies the voice. A note of melancholy has crept into it, half-hidden amidst the clamour of rending steel. “I AM NOBODY.”

You don't feel inclined to argue the point. Given that this creature is entirely unfazed by the idea of being stabbed with the Hideously Dangerous Stabby Thing, you're pretty sure that they and not you is in charge of the situation.

“I SENT THE LIFT DOWN,” they say. “YOU NEEDED IT.”

“How did you know I was in trouble?”

“I HEARD.”

“You were six floors above me.”

“I HAVE VERY GOOD HEARING.” The thing in the shadows shifts again; something clinks on the floor. “WHO ARE YOU?”

You consider. There doesn't seem to be any harm in telling them your name.

“I'm Othodox,” you reply. “I'm trying to save the world.”

“HOW?”

That's not a question you're expecting, but it is, when you think about it, entirely justifiable. How are you going to save the world?

“I don't know,” you admit, feeling that this conversation is rapidly getting out of hand. “That's why I came here. I was told you could help.”

“I CAN'T HELP ANYONE.” More shifting noises. You get the distinct impression that the unseen being is turning their back on you. “If YOU WANT HELP, GO AWAY.”

For something with such an awe-inspiring voice, they seem rather petulant.

In the deepening silence, you cast around for something to say that won't offend them and come up with the question of the dock.

“Why is the dock so run-down?” you ask.

There's no reply.

“LEAVE ME ALONE,” says the voice. “PLEASE. TELL WHOEVER SENT YOU NOT TO SEND ANYONE ELSE.”

“They won't,” you answer, suddenly feeling like punching some sense into this vexingly emo stranger. “There is no one else. I've seen a grand total of two other people recently, and one of them was dead.”

“What do you know about those monsters that live in the cities under the sea?” you ask savagely, deciding that the time for subtlety is past. No one ever broke through a wall of self-pity this thick without being rough.

There is a pause.

In the gloom, you see a dark shape that might be a head turning towards you.

“HOW DID YOU KNOW ABOUT – ABOUT THE DREAMS...?”

“Everyone gets them,” you reply. “Or they did, before they all died.” You take a step forwards. Something flinches away in the dark.

I'm glad you like it. It's actually 75 pages long in terms of actual pieces of A4, so you can feel pleased about doing a serious chunk of reading. If you want more, you're in luck: this is updated pretty much every day, unless I'm too busy. And I have to be very, very busy to be too busy.

Okay that last bit clentched it for me this is one of Jasmine's Magnes and I can only think of one thing to say to it, tell this poor creature "What happened is not your fault, and you can help, you've survived which means you can honor the memory of this town, of your trainer, Please tell me what you know so I can keep trying to set things right with the world" I know it's broad and doesn't make much sense but this thing obviously couldn't help when whatever happened to the town happened, it needs some comfort and to know it can still help fix the world.

When you came back up the lift it didnt appear that you had reclaimed Vesta. Seeing as she is both awesome and your sole companion, make sure she is with you. Secondly, placate the being speaking to you. Clearly, s/he has been through a lot and is feeling incredibly unstable.
(aside: "Knowledge is night." I didnt know you were a fan of Walter Moers!)

> When you came back up the lift it didnt appear that you had reclaimed Vesta. Seeing as she is both awesome and your sole companion, make sure she is with you. Secondly, placate the being speaking to you. Clearly, s/he has been through a lot and is feeling incredibly unstable.

Fear not. You have Vesta with you. The Narrator did not report it solely due to the need to regain narrative impetus after the lift scene. And not because he forgot or anything.

Definitely not that.

> Okay that last bit clentched it for me this is one of Jasmine's Magnes and I can only think of one thing to say to it, tell this poor creature "What happened is not your fault, and you can help, you've survived which means you can honor the memory of this town, of your trainer, Please tell me what you know so I can keep trying to set things right with the world" I know it's broad and doesn't make much sense but this thing obviously couldn't help when whatever happened to the town happened, it needs some comfort and to know it can still help fix the world.

“Whatever happened, it isn't your fault,” you say tentatively. “And... well, you've survived, haven't you? You can make amends for whatever it was – can honour the memory of this town, of your Trainer—”

A strange noise interrupts you – halfway between a laugh and a sob, heavily seasoned with grating metal.

“MY TRAINER?” asks the stranger scathingly. “WHAT DO YOU THINK I AM? WHAT – OH GOD, IF THAT'S HOW I SEEM TO YOU...”

You hear metal screaming along metal, like the sound of ploughs being hauled across shields.

“OH GOD,” they say. “OH GOD, OH GOD, OH GOD...”

The voice dissolves into fits of sobbing.

OK, so that didn't quite work out like you wanted it to. But at least there's no more Thu'um-esque screaming going on.

> Ask the Vexingly Emo Stranger what it wants. If that fails, try to find out why it's upset. Offer it hope (or cookies, or something).

“Hey,” you say, putting the Hideously Dangerous Stabby Thing away and sitting down. You're not sure why; it just seems like you might appear less threatening that way. “Look, what's wrong? What do you want?”

“I WANT TO BE LEFT ALONE,” answers the stranger, sniffing deeply. It sounds like a very small car backfiring.

“Why do you want to be left alone?” you ask. “Almost everyone's dead. I would've thought you were after company.”

Something silvery extends out of the gloom towards you. It's a knife, you think with a muffled curse – then it moves, and you see that it isn't.

It's a necrotic human hand, perfectly cast in stainless steel.

You stare in horrified fascination. There are raw patches oozing slow drops of mercury where the skin has been burned away; little metallic maggots like animated bullets writhe in open wounds. In some places, the flesh has been rent right down to the crystalline bone.

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